Peril (6 page)

The next several hours blurred in Morgan's mind like the remnants of a nightmare. The arrival of the ambulance. Her stammering through the story of how her daughter had been perfectly fine until Tyler came home.

EMS had placed a breathing tube. They'd gone emergent to Sacred Heart.

The CT scan of her head showed the devastation. Multiple bleeds. New and old subdural hematomas. Massive cerebral edema. Rib fractures. Retinal hemorrhages.

And her coworkers looked at her like a pedophile on a playground.

She knew the mantra that played through their mind. She'd taught it to some of them herself.

Whoever was last seen with the baby—hurt the baby.

That was her. It was Tyler.

Then the horror of every parent. The police interview in the midst of knowing that her daughter had been declared brain dead by one of her attending physicians. The conversation played through her mind like an unrelenting accusation of her failure to act.

“Morgan, I know you've been under a lot of stress,” Dr. Marshall had said. “You're trying to work while being on dialysis. There's the added stress of having a new baby. These things are far from easy. We can only help you and Tyler get through this if you tell us exactly what happened.”

Her voice weak and thin because she'd screamed so many times. She looked at him squarely. “I did not shake Teagan. I would never hurt her!”

And then Victoria had shown up with flowers for her baby. Pink gerbera daisies had been Morgan's favorite until that day. Until she saw them proffered up like a thinly veiled plea for forgiveness.

And that's when it had all fallen apart.

All the drama of a
telenovela
and more.

In the end, Victoria confessed she was the one who'd shaken Teagan. That she'd done it more than once, to quiet her crying. That was the last time Morgan ever saw her—leaving the PICU in handcuffs.

The sound of Tyler's footfalls on the steps brought her back to the present, to this moment, but the pain she felt was just as strong as it had been one month ago.

Morgan lay on her side, looking out at the city lights that lay in the valley below their home. She used to sway Teagan in her arms at the view. Tyler crossed over the carpet, teased her blond hair back, and placed warm lips on her forehead. Only after, he laid the flowers he'd originally bought for Teagan's grave on her dresser. Pink roses, limp, with brown, curled edges.

She wanted to throw them in the trash.

Tyler set his wine glass down in the armoire that held their television and turned on the news. He always hummed nursery rhymes he'd sung to Teagan as he got ready for bed.

“Looks like both of us had interesting ends to our day.”

She remained silent. The thought crossed her mind to feign sleep to avoid conversation altogether.

“Hon?”

Her eyes drew to the TV. Even the national news had picked up Zoe's story. A child's murder halted by the curious innocence of Boy Scouts was
like chum in the water for sharks. Their own lawn still hadn't recovered after the media had parked on their grass. Even better than a stranger taking the life of a child was the story of a pediatric ICU nurse and her transplant surgeon husband beating their own daughter to death.

Presumed guilty before proven innocent.

“You heard about Zoe Martin's case?” Morgan asked.

He turned around and clicked off the light. “Hard not to. Everyone's talking about it. How is she?”

“You're asking as a potential harvester of her organs?”

Sadness flashed in his blue eyes.

Why am I picking a fight, today of all days?

He sat next to her on the bed and pulled her hand into his. “I'm asking because I'm curious about what happened. To have a conversation with you.”

Tears leapt from her eyes and she pulled her hand from his. She closed her eyes tightly and buried them under the palms of her hands. Would this ache for her daughter ever go away? Did she regret the decision she had made? Is that why this void was never filled—because there was nothing of her daughter left to give hope to anyone else?

Tyler eased his arms around her back and pulled her tight into his embrace. He rocked her gently, but instead of comforting her, it only intensified the pain in her body, and she pushed back against him.

He held his hands up. “I'm sorry.”

Morgan rolled on the bed away from him. “Do you hate me for what I did?”

“What do you mean?”

“For refusing to donate Teagan's organs.”

She could hear the rush of his breath fill his chest and stop. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Honestly?”

Morgan nodded. This was the elephant in the room between them since Teagan had died. The coroner had given permission to release the body for donation, and Tyler had assumed, considering her background, she automatically would be on board.

“Hate is too strong a word. Disappointed, I guess.” His hand tightened. “I know it would have helped my grief to know that part of her was helping another child.”

“Especially now that we can't have any more.”

He rubbed her arm slowly. A response when he struggled to find the right words to say.

“Morgan, I love you. That hasn't changed. There are these issues we need to work through. What I don't know is how you feel about me. Do you want to stay in this marriage?”

She buried her face under her arms.

The bigger question is, do I even want to stay alive?

Chapter 5

Evening, Monday, June 11

B
RETT THREW HIS CAR INTO
park and flipped off the headlights.

“I shouldn't have called you,” he said. “I knew it would get your detective radar into overdrive. Lilly is going to kill me.”

Nathan was in the seat next to him. In between picking bits of lint off his pants, he'd been reviewing two case files. One was of the aggravated assault case of Zoe Martin, and the other was the one on Dr. and Mrs. Tyler Adams. Brett's partner closed the folder and looked in his direction, the light from the streetlamp shading his face like the Phantom of the Opera.

“Come on,” Nathan said. “I know you missed our witty repartee, and Lilly is working in the ER tonight anyway.”

“Guess I'll need to keep you out of the line of fire for sure then. I don't want Lilly killing me for letting you catch a bullet. I'd have to start my own list of unforgivables.”

Nathan patted his breast pocket where he kept the worn piece of paper. “Maybe you should create such a list.”

“About things I can't forgive myself for? Honestly, I got enough to be depressed about already.”

“You haven't talked much about your mother since her death.”

Brett loosened his tie. “Aw, man. You know I hate to talk about touchy-feely stuff. Let's focus on you. Any new list additions?”

Nathan settled his knee against the door. “Since losing those hostages and delaying public disclosure too long in Lilly's rape case? I did add Raven Samuals to the list. I shouldn't have stopped watching over her. Maybe I could have prevented her descent into revenge. Maybe those officers would still be alive.” The car was quiet for a few moments.

The silence made Brett uncomfortable. “Let's get this interview done.”

“I am glad you called me about it.”

“Once I saw your name on Teagan's file and the connection to the little note I found—I had a hunch you'd want to be in on this one from the start.”

Nathan closed the folder and tapped it against his knee. “You were on your little hiatus when her case came in.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Not after the sitter confessed. Morgan, the mother, she's a lot like Lilly in a way.”

“How?”

“Just her demeanor. There's this toughness about Morgan Adams.”

“Maybe we should be worried she's packing. Considering the marksman your sweet wife is. I saw her outshoot Lee Watson on the range once.”

Nathan chuckled. “Don't say that in front of him when he's with his SWAT guys. I won't be responsible for what happens.” He grazed the folder with his fingers. “Lilly's the only woman I know who carries a concealed weapon.”

“You know she could get the draw on you.”

“Probably.”

“Not probably. Absolutely. Next day off—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're just hungry to get me knocked down a few. I'm not working with SWAT for my marksmanship skills.”

Brett pushed his door open. “I'm glad you realize that.”

Nathan hopped out of the car and closed the door. “As long as you appreciate the shortcomings of your character.”

Brett affected mock disdain. “Me. I'm perfect.”

“Minus the ladies' man shiner you're sporting today. Did you mistake a boyfriend for a brother again?”

“Doorknob.”

“Whatever.” Nathan stopped midpoint up the stairs. “Do you see these flower beds? I wonder if Adams is a closet landscaper. I've been looking for someone.”

“I'm sure he's got loads of time between his doctoring and all to do your yard work.”

The Adams' residence was a refurbished historical Victorian home painted in vibrant colors. Brett thought a child might have had a hand in picking out the color scheme, or at least an adult that was infatuated
with McDonald's. One half was orange-red painted brick, the other side a pale yellow and the top half a sunnier, deeper yellow. The pathway lights flickered on as the sun was swallowed by the Rocky Mountains.

Nathan smiled. “You take the lead. You know more about the case than I do.”

Brett's chest swelled with pride. He respected Nathan more than his ego would ever allow him to share. Lately, Nathan had chilled quite a bit.
Wonder what's going on between him and Lilly to cause such a change? Maybe they're finally trying for a family
. He rang the doorbell and pulled his credentials from his pocket.

The door opened to reveal a man, about six-foot-two, dressed in blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt. Brown hair. His eyelids narrowed over his dark blue eyes.

“Dr. Tyler Adams?” Brett said.

Confusion swept over the man's face as he nodded.

Behind him, a woman with long, curly blond hair and hesitant green eyes pulled a white terry cloth robe tighter around her slim waist. The nurse.
Why did people look so different when they were out of their uniform?
Brett flashed his badge. “I'm Detective Brett Sawyer.” He waved his hand Nathan's direction. “My partner, Detective Nathan Long. We're with Aurora police. Can we come in and ask a few questions?”

“Weren't you at the hospital today?” Morgan Adams asked Brett.

“Yes, ma'am. I was the one there from the police for Zoe Martin.”

She shook her head with a puzzled frown. “You know I can't give you any medical information about her case. You'd have to go through the public relations office for that.”

Her husband opened the door wider. “What is this regarding?”

Brett stepped closer to the door. “Mrs. Adams is partly right. It's regarding the assault on Zoe Martin, but I'm not here for any of her medical info.”

“Why don't we step inside?” Nathan suggested.

Dr. Adams showed them to a well-sized formal living area just off the foyer. The room was painted a light golden brown. Heavy, red velvet curtains and a red stuffed chenille couch popped against the more neutral tones. The main sitting area was poised in the middle of the room with a bi-level wood table facing two additional wing chairs. Adams motioned to the wing chairs and Brett and Nathan took seats. Morgan shuffled in and seemed to melt into the couch next to her husband.

Brett cleared his throat. “Dr. Adams, I'm sorry to bother you tonight. I'll try to keep it brief due to the late hour. Have you heard anything about Zoe's case?”